Dark Paradise: A Tale of Unravelled Destiny
by The Madrigal
Summary: Hermione Granger has a huge problem. No, several problems! One, she accidentally fell through time to 1942, making it so she was never born. Two, she fell in love with a young Tom Riddle, and she's pregnant with his child. Three she has to save her best friends, who don't remember her. Four, Hermione doesn't think she'll be able to live with Tom dead. It'll be a dark paradise.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

Hey! This is my first story on Fanfiction after a long withdrawal. All my stories had been left incomplete, and then I'd deleted them. I love Harry Potter, and all things associated with it. I came up with this crazy twisted idea. From the first actual chapter, every other chapter will be modern, messed-up time and the 1940s. It will keep switching. I hope that you guys will be able to keep up. Now, without further ado, please enjoy _Dark Paradise: A Tale of Unravelled_ _Time_.

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**"Every time I close my eyes/**

**It's like a dark paradise."**

**Lana Del Rey, Dark Paradise **

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Somewhere in the Forest of Dean, seventeen-year-old Hermione Granger, best friend of Harry Potter, Muggle-born witch, brightest witch of her age, and Gryffindor Princess, sat frowning in a creaky rocking chair. She rocked back and forth in the chair with rhythm, deep in thought, gazing around the battered old tent that Mr. Weasley's colleague, Perkins, had given them.

Heavy on Hermione's chest, Salazar Slytherin's locket gleamed and pulsed as if it had a heartbeat. Oblivious to her, the locket was glowing with a red tinge and letting off tiny wisps of red smoke. Hermione, on the other hand, closed her eyes and leaned against the wooden frame of the chair. Her breathing relaxed, and she dosed off.

Meanwhile, the locket around her neck began to smoke more, the tiny wisps of smoke now becoming full streams of gas. Suddenly, the locket flipped open! More red smoke poured from within the open locket. Forming into a little tornado, the smoke wrapped around Hermione asleep in the rocking chair.

Her eyes snapping open, Hermione awoke with a wheeze. "Huh?" she gasped through the thick smoke. "Shit!" she swore, jumping to her feet and slide out her vine wood wand from her pocket.

"Diffindo!" A white light shot from her wand and tried to penetrate the thick smoke barrier. The smoke simply absorbed the spell and began to solidify, swirling faster.

"Reducto!" Hermione slashed her wand through the air, and a blue light erupted from her wand. Like previously, the smoke absorbed her spell.

Hermione's hair whipped her face as she shot spell after spell against the smoke with no effect. Finally, in despair, she yelled, "Sectumsempra!" The spell had no effect whatsoever.

Remembering a spell she had read in one of Dark Art books she had stolen from Hogwarts, Hermione chanted, "Hanc periculo animae meae salutem! (Banish this danger, bring me to safety!)" She stumbled through the words but finally succeeded with the spell.

A greyish-white light shot like a cannon from her wand. The ball of magic separated into several balls and surrounded Hermione, flying and exploding in the red hazy cyclone. Despite the Dark spell, smoke still poured out of the locket.

Hermione grabbed the locket, tore it from her neck, and flung it across the tent. Suddenly, she remember another spell, also from the stolen books. It had come with a warning, being quite powerful. Its purpose was unknown, but a wizard was known to have once destroyed an entire village with the spell.

"Depopularetur, ad nihilum redigere, qui supputari! Depopularetur, ad nihilum redigere, qui supputari! Depopularetur, ad nihilum redigere, qui supputari! (Devastate, annihilate, raze! Devastate, annihilate, raze! Devastate, annihilate, raze!) " Hermione chanted thrice times.

The red smoke whirled around her in a blur. The air within the mini-cyclone became hazy and blurred. Hermione twisted around the whirlwind, trying to claw her way out of the smoke trap. "Help!" she screamed, wheezing and gasping for air through the thick mist.

Suddenly, and to Hermione's great pleasure, a tremor shook the earth. A crack appeared in the disastrous cyclone. Smoke rushed to fill the gap, but besides it, more cracks appeared. The smoke dispersed into the air with the speed of a cheetah, vanishing.

Whispering another spell, Hermione gasped through her clogged-up throat. "Protege, sim defensus. (Protect, shield me.)"

With a large crack, the ground underneath Hermione exploded into blue lights, zooming towards her. Gleaming painfully bright, the light engulfed Hermione in a full body-shield. She found fresh air and breathed happily before the air was snatched away from her with a painful rush. The light sparkled brightly and faded, taking Hermione with it.

* * *

Harry Potter and his best friend, Ron Weasley, rushed into the tent, soaking wet. Ron had rescued Harry from drowning in a pool, where Harry had found Gordic Gryffindor's sword. Ron would destroy the locket, which Hermione was currently in possession of.

But, to their shock, they found the locket flung across the tent, and Hermione missing. "What the bloody hell?!" Ron asked. "Where's Hermione?!"

"I don't know. The tent is okay, and there is no damage. Maybe Hermione just wandered off." But as soon as he had suggested it, Harry knew it wasn't true. Hermione wouldn't wander off, leaving them alone.

"'Mione? 'Mione?" called Ron. He kneeled down to touch the locket. "Oi! Harry! The locket is beating with a pulse!" he cried in shock.

"What!" Harry rushed to Ron and felt the locket. "It is..." Upon his words, red smoke drifted from the locket and passed under his nose. Harry slumped to the ground, unconscious.

"Harry! Mate?!" Ron yelled. The red smoke also passed under his nose, and he met the same fate as Harry.

The boys would wake up in minutes. When they did, they'd find the locket missing. Harry would rouse Ron, pack the tent into his new-appeared rug sack, and Apparate Ron and himself to a forest in Scotland.

They wouldn't think back to a certain bushy-haired witch. They wouldn't remember her at all. Because, at least in their era and their life, Muggle-born Hermione Granger had ceased to exist.

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Thanks for reading. Please comment. Criticism is appreciated so I can know what I am doing wrong and fix or improve it. Even hating comments will work. I will try and post two or three times a month. Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2: There's No Remedy For Memory

The official chapter one! Please enjoy. From now, every other chapter will be in the 1940s.

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**"And there's no remedy/**

**For memory."**

**Lana Del Rey, Dark Paradise**

* * *

"Crack!" A loud noise exploded across the clearing like a gunshot while, simultaneously, a large tremor ran through the ground, waking up a sleeping Ronald Weasley. "Wha?" Ron snorted, jerking awake. He shook his head, clearing away all of his drowsiness.

"Harry! Harry!" Ron poked Harry twice as hard as he could. When his black-haired friend wouldn't awaken, Ron raised his hand and SLAPPED Harry as hard as he could on the side of the face! "Harry! Wake up!' Ron yelled.

"Dumbledore's dead! Snape killed him!" Harry cried out, jumping up. His wand, pointed up at the tent's ceiling, was beginning to glow red. "What the hell! Why would you slap me?" Harry scowled, rubbing his now-red, sore face.

"Sorry!" Ron grinned. "You should have woken up when I first poked you. I tried but you wouldn't wake up." He shrugged helplessly, though he was still grinning. "Oi! Watch your wand!' Ron cried with alarm, pointing at Harry's wand, which was about to blast a hole though the tent. Ron dived forward and wrestled the wand away. When the glow finally subsided, he gave it back to Harry.

Another loud crack sounded in the clearing. Harry and Ron looked at each other alarmed. "Do you think the Death Eaters found us?" Harry asked, alarmed. He gripped his wand tightly, his knuckles turning white, and poised on the tips of his toes, ready to flee when necessary.

A tremor ran through the ground, vibrating with such vigor that Ron could feel it in his core. "Of course not," Ron answered, trying to sound reassured, though he was sure that Harry knew that he himself was uncertain. "We've cast the Safety Charms correctly, I've checked them twice. We only refer to You-Know-Who as Riddle, so we've avoided the Taboo. It must be something else." Ron's voice wavered with uncertainty.

A tiny tremor shook the earth, so small that Harry could barely feel it. "Let's check outside!" Harry suggested, yanking Ron through the tent opening. The night was pitch-black, prompting Harry to pull out his wand. "Lumos!" he murmured. A small, bright, white light lit up upon his wand tip. Harry swung his wand around, searching by the shadowy light for something, anything.

Under the wavering light, Ron thought he spotted a flash of brown. "Lumos solemn," Ron muttered. Light flooded from Ron's wand, revealing the body of a young woman. "Harry! Harry! It's a body!" Ron cried. "Look!" he pointed.

"Ron," Harry said. "I think this girl is dead." He swept his wand along the girl's body.

"No, look." Ron knelt next to Harry. "She's still breathing."

"Bring her inside!" Harry ordered.

"What if she's a Death Eater?" Ron asked quietly.

"I don't care. I will not have anyone, I repeat, anyone, die on my watch." Harry stated. "Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry levitated the girl inside the tent, settling her on the spare bunk. "Ron! You're the better healer. Help her!"

"Alright!" Ron dove into his rug sack and pulled out various items: a book-The Guide to Healing Spells, Essence of Dittany, and a small plastic packet of cloth bandages. "Move away!" he cried at Harry, juggling the different items. Placing them upon a sidetable, Ron set to work.

* * *

Flipping through the book, looking for a diagnostic spell, Ron tapped the book with his wand. Finding one, he cleared his throat and began to chant, waving his wand over the girl's body. Several areas on the girl's body lit up with a pale yellow light.

"Bloody hell!" Ron bellowed.

"What?" Harry asked urgently.

"This girl is pregnant!" Ron cried.

"So?" Harry asked, now bored.

"I've never seen a pregnant person," Ron admitted. "I mean, when Mum was pregnant with Ginny, I was one. I don't really remember anything about then."

"Move on. This girl could be dying!" Harry cried.

"What?! Right!" Ron said. Looking back at the girl, he spotted a shallow gash on the girl's left thigh, and a medium-sized hole of missing flesh oozing green slime and hissing on the right, inside arm. "Thank God!" Ron prayed.

"What? How bad are her injuries?" asked Harry.

"None are too bad to threaten her child. Though, I think she is eight months pregnant. I hope we won't have to deliver a baby." Ron looked scared, his eyes large and wide in fear. "That's one task I hope to never have to assist anyone with."

"Just fix her up already," Harry cried.

"Right," Ron chuckled. He grabbed the gauze and bottle of Dittany, cutting away a piece of fabric on the girl's left thigh and exposing the cut. "Scourgify!' The wound cleaned of all dirt and blood. "Huh? It's not as bad as I thought." Ron poured a small drop of Dittany on the wound, which started hissing and letting out smoke. The girl moaned in her sleep. Slowly, new skin stretched over the gash. "It's kinda healed now, but, since it's a Dark Curse-"

"Wait!" Harry said. "How do you know the spell that inflicted that wound was a Dark Curse?"

"I recognize the symptoms. The spell is kinda like Sectumsempra." Ron turned back to the wound and continued. "Since it's a Dark Curse, the wound may reopen and bleed a little occasionally. Hence, I will cover it with gauze." Ron pulled out a cloth bandage. Unravelling it, he magicked some grey sludge upon it. "This ointment will reduce the bleeding and heal the remaining effects of the Curse," he explained.

"What about the oozing, slimy hole?" Harry asked.

Ron chuckled nervously. "That may be a problem." Dropping three drops of Dittany on the wound stopped the slime from coming, but Ron, even after Scourgifying the remaining slime, was surprised when the wound refused to grow new skin. "I don't recognize this Curse," Ron stated.

"So... now what?" Harry questioned.

"Wait. Let me try something. Sana! (Heal!)" Ron chanted, pouring Dittany all over the flesh hole.

"Ai!" The sleeping witch yelped in her sleep but didn't awaken. Her wound slowly healed, only with the efforts of the Dittany and Ron's continuous healing spells. New skin stretched over the wound, which still let off small amounts of smoke.

"Thank God!" Ron pleaded. "Scourgify!" Immediately, all the dirt and blood vanished from the girl's body. "Bloody hell! Harry!"

Harry shot up from where he was sitting on a fat armchair, reading. "What?" he demanded.

"Look at this." Ron pointed at the girl.

* * *

The girl was not really a girl, more of a young lady. She was approximately nineteen or twenty, moderately tall with a petite body. She was, to Ron's happiness, gorgeous. She had a heart-shaped face with creamy-white skin and high cheekbones and a small nose. Her eyes were shaped like almonds, similar to Harry's eyes, yet more narrow. They flickered open for a brief moment to reveal chocolaty-hazel eyes. Her hair was a light brown, sleek and floating down to the small of her back. Her clothing was out-dated but were loose as if she had to move around often. She wore a form-fitting navy-blue shirt, tight black trousers, and black combat boots, over which she wore a long black robe. A red beaded handbag peeked out from a pocket while a special brown leather holster on the inside of her arm held a long wand.

But Harry and Ron's attention was not upon her. Their eyes were drawn to her neck, where a large locket lay. Upon a long gold chain, a fat and large, gold, egg-shaped, locket engraved with a large 'S' made up of small emeralds lay between her breasts.

"Salazar Slytherin's locket," Ron said. "How did she get it?" Ron stared at the witch.

"I don't wanna know," Harry said gravely. Seeing the witch moving, he raised his wand, "Stupefy!" A red beam shot at the witch, and she slumped down unconscious.

"What was that for?!" Ron squawked.

"I don't want to wake up to find you dead," Harry snarled. Pointing his wand at the witch, he began to chant what Ron recognized as the Deep Sleep Charm. "Somnus enim dies et noctes! (Slumber for long days and nights!)"

"Harry!" Ron tried to say. "Come on-"

"Ron, I allowed you to come with me. Now, I must protect us and do what Dumbledore asked me to do. Anyway, she shall sleep for a week. That'll be enough time for her wounds to heal." Harry looked back over to Ron. "Right?"

"Right!" Ron agreed, his voice quavering.

"So, we keep an eye on her. You'll keep checking her wounds," Harry ordered.

"But..." Ron's voice went on deaf ears.

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	3. Chapter 3: I Can Dance And Play The Part

I know that more people are reading this story, but I won't know if they like or not unless someone comments. So people, please, pretty please with a cherry on top, please, comment.

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**"I can fake a smile/**

**I can force a laugh/**

**I can dance and play the part."**

**Christina Perri, Human**

* * *

Hermione found herself falling though the air, her hands clutching her wand and beaded handbag as if they were her lifeline. Drawing her wand, Hermione twisted around in midair, ready to cast a Momentum-Slowing Jinx.

But she faltered. Because, the very stone floor she was going to smash into belonged to Hogwarts. 'How did I get to Hogwarts?' she wondered. Opening her mouth, the incantation was at the tip of her tongue.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" a masculine voice roared.

Immediately, Hermione's fall slowed to a stop, and she was levitated to her feet. "Thanks," she gasped, without looking up at her savior.

"What are you doing out of bed so late, Ms. Granger?" the voice asked, strangely cold and emotionless.

"Uh...what's that supposed to mean?" Hermione questioned, still not looking up.

"Why are you not in bed?" the voice repeated, mincing out her name like it was poison.

Now, Hermione looked up and then suffered a series of different reactions. First, she gasped. Then, she recoiled in confusion. Finally, her face shone with recognition. For the face she had looked up in belonged to ... ... ... Tom Riddle!

"Whaa?! Ho-ow?! But...!" she stuttered. _This is the Horcrux's fault,_ she thought. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" she exclaimed. "Are you done?" Riddle repeated impatiently, annoyance bleeding into his tone.

"Yeah...I think so," Hermione muttered. She looked back at Tom Riddle, still not believing her eyes, one, because he belonged in the 1940s, and two, because, damn, Lord Voldemort was hot! _Well,_ Hermione reflected. _At least he was before he became all snake-like. _

Tom Riddle looked like he came out of a medieval story, the royal and noble prince. Tall and lean but still muscled, he stood in the Hogwarts corridor like he owned the castle. His face was a Greek marble statue, with dark hair and sunken features and pristine, crystal blue eyes that currently held Hermione's brown orbs in an unwavering stare.

"Ms. Granger, I am talking to you!" Riddle repeated a third time, clearly annoyed, his hand twitching. Hermione recognized that hand twitch. It was the impossible controlling of an urge to grab your wand and curse any idiot in the next three hundred feet. Hermione got that urge every time Harry decided that Dumbledore was still alive or Lavender kissed Ron in front of Hermione.

"Uhhh...umm..." Hermione stood there, making stupid noises with her mouth. She mentally slapped herself. _You idiot! You are the brightest witch of your age. You are the best friend of the Boy who Lived. You may or may not be the Gryffindor Princess. You are a warrior, a fighter! You DO NOT stand there like a lovesick girl, sounding stupid because you are standing in front the hottest guy you've seen. He's also Lord Voldemort!_ the rational part of Hermione's brain ranted.

"Just because you almost became Head Girl, it does not mean you are allowed to wander the halls of Hogwarts like the Pureblooded Princess you are!" Tom Riddle barked.

Startled, Hermione glanced up into the future Dark Lord's face. He was starting to look pissed. "Wait, what?!" she cried.

"Do not test my patience, Dagworth-Granger!" Riddle hissed, all politeness vanishing from his voice.

Hermione shrank visibly, frightened by the venom in Riddle's voice. "Dagworth-Granger?" she muttered.

She'd heard of the Dagworth-Grangers. After Professor Slughorn had mentioned Hector Dagworth-Granger in the first Potions lesson last year, Hermione had researched their bloodline. Apparently, they had been an elite Pureblooded family that, along with the Weasleys, Longbottoms, and Potters, had always been Gryffindors. The family had died out in the 1960s after Hector Dagworth-Granger had died of an accidental Potion he had been testing. His wife, who had died three years previous to Hector, had supposedly been infertile, not uncommon with the Purebloods who married within their families, leaving no heirs to continue the bloodline. There was also a possibility that Hector's younger Squib sister, who had been disowned, had settled in Muggle London and given birth to Hermione's father's father, Robert Granger.

But here was Lord Voldemort himself, convinced that Hermione was related to a brilliant Pureblooded Potioneer. Hermione was very proud of her heritage as a Muggle-born and would rebuke anyone who thought she was other than a Muggle-born, but if her understanding of her circumstances was right, then it was better to go along with whatever young Voldemort was saying.

"I couldn't sleep, I missed home. So I went for a walk." Hermione stated nervously, hoping Riddle believed her. "What are YOU doing out of bed so late?" she added, trying to turn the tables around.

In a second, all that remained of Riddle's charming facade vanished. An ugly expression contorted his handsome face, his blue eyes gleaming red. "I am Head Boy, you incompetent idiot!"

_Right..._ Hermione thought. She had forgotten that Voldemort had been at the top of his studies in the '40s.

"I know you are lying!" Riddle barked.

Hermione gulped. She didn't like where this conversation was headed.

Riddle continued, "You may be Dumbledore's pawn, but that won't help you anymore! I will prove that you had helped that oaf, Hagrid, with the attacks in Fifth year, and then you will be expelled faster than you can say 'Slytherin'!"

Something ugly bubbled up in Hermione's chest. Hagrid had been framed! And now Riddle was threatening her, or at least who Hermione was currently pretending to be with the same fate! She clenched her fists while red darkened her vision. "On the contrary, Riddle, I will prove that you were the one behind the Chamber of Secrets attacks, considering that it had to be a Slytherin, and you are considered the Slytherin King," Here, Hermione was assuming. Draco Malfoy had been known as the Slytherin Prince, so why couldn't Riddle be the king? "And then, Rubeus will be brought back to Hogwarts!"

Voldemort scoffed. But then, he took a step closer to Hermione.

Hermione took a step, and her back hit the wall.

Riddle took another step towards Hermione.

She flattened herself against the wall. "What are you doing?" she gulped.

He ignored her. "How sad would it be if the daughter of the late brilliant Hector Dagworth-Granger went missing? Or worse, she turned up dead right after her eighteenth birthday?" Riddle whispered, his breath hitting the sensitive outer shell of Hermione's ear. His wand traced the column of her throat.

Hermione stiffened, becoming aware of how close the young Voldemort was to her. If anyone walked into the little alcove they were hidden in, it could be thought that Hermione and Voldemort were making out. Hermione shivered uncontrollably at that thought. "Are you threatening me?" she questioned.

"Of course not." Voldemort frowned in fake confusion. "Why would I do that?" Riddle stepped away and straightened. "Off you go to Gryffindor Tower. But, if I ever she you wandering here after hours, I will have to give you a detention or something worse..."

Hermione stiffened, before scurrying in the direction of the Common Room.

* * *

Hermione ran, not stopping until she was in front of the Fat Lady. "Damn it, I don't know the password." She realized.

"Do not worry," someone called.

Jumping back, Hermione wildly looked around for the voice before registering that the Fat Lady had spoken. "What?" she inquired.

"Dumbledore said to just let you in without the password." The Fat Lady added before the portrait swung forward.

"Oh, thanks." Hermione murmured before scrambling into the safety of her beloved Gryffindor Common Room. The fire had been put out, so the Room was slightly cold. Hermione climbed into a fat armchair that she always inhabited while reading and curled into a ball. She closed her eyes. Hopefully, this whole ordeal would turn out to be a dream that Slytherin's locket conjured up.

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr., also known as Lord Voldemort to his followers, sat back in his black leather armchair, pondering about a certain stubborn Gryffindoress.

Hermione Isadora Dagworth-Granger would have made the perfect Dark Lady. She was quite beautiful, with those delicate feature, chocolate eyes, and curly hair. She had been one of the first girls in Fourth year to start receiving marriage proposals from random Pureblooded families, mostly Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. Of course, she had refused all of them, insisting on staying independent.

Her intelligence was unmatched by anyone except Tom. She came in second in class by a mere fraction. She was Pureblooded, being the daughter of one of the influential families in the Potions business. And last of all, her family was inhumanly rich. Granger was related to the Potters, the Longbottoms, the Moodys, and of course, the bloodtraitors, the Weasleys. Hector Dagworth-Granger had also gained millions of galleons with his Potions business that had went to Hermione when she turned of age last year. She was also orphaned, both her parents had died three months before her 17th birthday, making it easier to marry her.

But then came in the pesky little issues. Granger hung around the idiots Weasley heirs. She was a Gryffindor, a Slytherin's worst enemy. Worst of all, Hermione was Dumbledore's goddaughter and his goddamn spy. She was in charge of keeping an eye on Tom, which was why Adelaide Bones from Ravenclaw was made Head Girl instead of Granger, so Granger could have more time to spy on the heir of Slytherin.

But Tom was determined. By the end of his Seventh year, he would beguile Hermione Isadora Dagworth-Granger, goddaughter of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and steal right under those bumbling Gryffindors' noses. He'd make her his.

* * *

I hope you guys get the idea. Please comment! I will post tomorrow if I can get five comments by then.


	4. Chapter 4: We Were Never Welcome Here

Hey, I'm back with the fourth chapter. Sorry, it took so long. I'd meant to post this chapter before I went on a month-long vacation but it never happened. Please enjoy.

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**"We were never welcome here/**

**We were never welcome here at all/**

**No."**

**Imagine Dragons, Who We Are**

* * *

"Harry Potter..." his name was drawled out in true Malfoy fashion. "Come to save your little friends?" The eldest Malfoy stood in front of a wall of glass, tinted opaque so that Harry could not see past it.

Lucius twirled his slender wand between his fingertips before brandishing it towards the glass wall. It shimmered out of existence to reveal Harry's worst nightmare...

Several of Death Eaters stood in a threatening position. Each one was grasping one of Harry's friends, all bearing signs of torture and severe injuries. Bellatrix Lestrange was holding Ginny in a choke-hold, her wand jabbing into Ginny's ribs. Harry's girlfriend had one arm pressed as tightly to her side as she could, beneath it Harry could see glistening scarlet blood oozing out.

Luna was being grasped by her hair and suspended above the ground by Rowle. Her hair was no longer a dirty blonde, instead, it was dyed scarlet with blood. Besides Rowle stood Rodolphus Lestrange, his wand aimed at Neville's head.

And, Ron? Ron was the worst off. He was not held by any Death Eater. Instead, he was being levitated in an orb of golden energy. He was unrecognizable, his skin tainted red with blood. Harry couldn't tell where Ron's skin ended and where his hair began. Only his piercing blue eyes remained recognizable, his gaze skittering around resting on Harry for a brief moment.

Malfoy Sr. smiled sinisterly. Picking up his wand, he turned it to face Harry. "Now, let us resume our fun. Who should we destroy first?" His grey eyes were chips of ice, displaying no human emotion at all.

Harry was struck by the difference between Lucius Malfoy's eyes and his son, Draco Malfoy's eyes. Though the same eyes, Draco's were a tidal pool of life while Lucius's eyes were flat and dead. When Harry had cornered Draco after he'd nearly killed Dumbledore, the younger Malfoy's eyes had held a look of fear for a brief moment but he had held Harry's gaze with a look of pleading, huddled in a corridor, his blonde hair bleeding red. Harry now regretted not killing the blonde then and there. He had unintentionally sentenced him to a worse fate.

The wand in Lucius's hand began to glow red. "Let's start with the future Mrs. Potter!"

Hearing him, Bellatrix cackled and moved away from Ginny, exposing her to the full wrath of the spell.

The bolt of red jumped from the wand, soaring towards Ginny. Harry's heart beat in fear. The spell had just inches left between it and Ginny. And then, it struck!...

* * *

Harry awoke with a start, a yell on the tip of his tongue. He gasped in relief when he realized that he was safe in the tent and that Ron was just a few feet away. Immediately, his gaze fell to the unconscious witch.

He felt immensely guilty for bewitching the girl. All she'd done for six days straight was sleep and look vulnerable. Ron had confirmed that all her wounds were healed, and that the witch would be waking up ay day now.

"Ahhh!" Ron sighed, stretching his sore muscles. "'Morning!" he smiled goofily at Harry. "When did you wake up?"

"Just now," Harry answered, grateful for all the Silencing Charms he'd placed around his bunk. If not for them, Ron'd wake up every time Harry had a nightmare, or every night. If Ron knew how severe his nightmares had become, he'd stuff a Dreamless Sleep Potion in Harry. And Harry was too worried that the witch would wake and kill them if he fell asleep. It was better to get fragments of sleep and be safe than to get all his rest and be murdered in their sleep.

"Get good sleep?" Ron asked.

"Yup," Harry lied, silently thanking Merlin that Ron could never tell when Harry lied.

Through the uncomfortable silence, Ron's stomach growled. Ron smiled sheepishly.

Harry grinned, thankful for the distraction. "You go find food, I''l stay and heat up the bathwater."

"Let's hope I actually find something," Ron chuckled, but Harry could hear the desperation in his voice. Too many nights had been spent picking at half-cooked, inedible fungi and listening to each other's grumbling stomaches. Neither of them had any real cooking knowledge to improve the already soggy mushrooms.

* * *

Harry stalked towards the space that he and Ron had dubbed 'the bathroom.' It was just a small closet space that had its own flap of canvas separating it from the rest of the tent.

The space consisted of rows of mostly empty shelves. On one shelf lay the 'toilet,' a simple ceramic pot. On another shelf lay two large metal pots, both filled half-way. One pot provided their bathwater while the other provided their cooking and drinking water.

Ron, being the better at Charms, had covered the bathroom with Water-Repelling Charms and Privacy Charms, along with Noise and Sound-Blocking Charms. The overall effect wasn't pleasant, but it was preferred over other solutions.

* * *

Levitating the water over to the kitchen, Harry set the pot on the kitchen table. The kitchen simply consisted of the the table and a box of cooking utensils underneath it. Warming, Chilling, and Heating Charms did all the cleaning, a simple but powerful Scourgify worked.

While escaping from the Death Eaters at Bill and Fleur's wedding, Ron had Apparated them to a forest that Mr. Weasley had taken his family camping for a Muggle experience. Harry had never wanted Ron to come with him, but it was too late. Thankfully, Ron had prepared a back-up plan to explain his absence at Hogwarts, a ghoul with Spattergroit.

Ron had already packed all of the supplies they'd need along with the Weasley family's broken-down tent. Just before the wedding started, Harry had shrunk their rug-sacks and kept them in the pocket of his dress robes.

"Harry," Ron called.

On impulse, Harry looked over to the sleeping witch. She was still sleeping, her chest rising up and down rhythmically and her face clear of any emotion. "I'm in the kitchen."

Ron strode over to where Harry was standing and dumped a sack full of fungi on the kitchen table. "I'll cook," he stated.

Harry's heart sank. It looked like it'd be another one of those sleepless night, trying to ignore their growling stomachs.

* * *

Reading from a book of Cooking Spells that he'd borrowed from his mother, Ron muttered "Aguamenti!" while he brandished his wand over the shallow pot. Instantly, water flowed from his wand until the pot was half-way filled.

After cleaning the mushrooms with a quick Scourgify, Ron dropped them in a small saucepan with some water. Raising his wand and flourishing it over the pan, Ron chanted, "Crispus. (Crisp.)"

A small wave of hot air came blew from Ron's wand, making the air around him seem like a mirage. The wave of air wafted over the mushrooms, evaporating the water but leaving the mushrooms crisp and slightly burnt.

After leafing through his rugsack, Ron found some dried thyme and mint leaves and tried to brew some tea. The result, though a pale and sickly green, smelled strongly like Goyle's Polyjuice Potion.

Devouring their makeshift meal, Harry and Ron set out portions for lunch so they would not have to cook again. They began an Exploding Snap game for a lack of something better to occupy their minds.

* * *

Her eyes flickered open. She found herself staring up at a gray bottom of a bunk bed. She turned on her side, and her heart stopped!

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were sitting less than ten feet away from her! They were hunched together, talking in hushed tones. They looked quite the same as the last time she'd seen them.

Harry's hair was still as messy as ever, though slightly longer than usual. His vivid eyes were no less green. Sadly, a terrible, jagged scar ran diagonally across his face, seeming a gruesome parody of his famous lightening scar, which was still emblazoned on his forehead.

Ron was seemingly the same, tall, gangly, and ginger, though he now resembled Bill and Charlie with his shaggy hair. His face, in fact, both of their faces, were more haggard and wizened, making her wonder if the events of their past were more brutal than in her past.

Trying to propel herself to a standing position, her arms faltered when a sudden pain flared up in her stomach. She flopped down with a moan. Instantly, he hands reached for her ballooning stomach, trying to protect her unborn child.

Harry and Ron, who had apparently heard her groan, were suddenly standing in front of her.

"Look, we won't hurt you," Harry spoke softly and quietly as if he were talking to a wounded animal, though she thought she heard a mocking undertone in his voice.

"My name is Ron Weasley." Ron stated.

"I am Harry Potter," addd Harry.

* * *

Harry waited for a flicker of recognition in the witch's face.

Something did in fact flare in the witch's brown eyes, maybe recognition. It seemed more of a mixture of longing and happiness. But as soon as it appeared, the emotions vanished, leaving the witch's face blank again.

"What would today's date be?" the witch asked in a lilting voice. Her words were brisk and old-fashioned.

"Today is December 18, 1997." Ron looked at Harry as he answered.

"What is your name?" Harry questioned. He noted that grief shone in the girl's delicate features at his question.

"My name," the witch began. "is Hermione Jean Granger."

* * *

Sorry for leaving you at a cliff-hanger. Couldn't help it. I hope to post the fifth chapter by the middle of next week. Please read and review. PM if you have any questions.


	5. Chapter 5: Lost But Now I Am Found

Hello, world! So I'd promised that I'd update with another chapter by the middle of the week. But to make up for the no chapter for two weeks, I decided to make this chapter longer than usual. Sorry for the delay. And, if anyone wants to be my Beta, I would gladly appreciate it. That way I can get started on writing future chapters and new stories. Thanks, and please enjoy this chapter.

But, first! For those of you who have forgotten, a recap!

Prologue: The story starts in the Forest of Dean, where Harry is trying to get the Sword of Gryffindor. Everything remains Canon!, except that Hermione has the Slytherin locket. Back at the tent, the locket starts glowing with a red light. It starts giving off red mist. Hermione tries to fight the mist, and it transports her away. Harry and Ron rush in, find Hermione missing, touch the locket, and pass out. Their, along with anyone who ever met Hermione, memories of Hermione are removed so she never existed. The locket then disappears.

Chapter 1: Harry and Ron are sleeping in a random forest when they are awaken by a loud crack. They rush outside and discover an unconscious and pregnant witch, age 19-21. Ron heals her wounds, but Harry realizes that the witch has the Slytherin locket around her. Harry and Ron had been searching for the locket for months. Not trusting the witch, or the locket, Harry places the witch under a Deep-Sleeping Charm.

Chapter 2: Hermione arrives in Hogwarts to realize that she went back in time to 1944 where she mets Tom Riddle, the future Voldemort. He mistakes her for Hermione Dagworth-Granger, our Hermione's great-grandaunt, who goes to school with him. Hermione pretends to be her great-grandaunt and then flees after Tom threatens her. Meanwhile, Tom decides that Hermione would make the perfect Dark Lady to rule by his side.

Chapter 3: Harry and Ron, back in the present, wake up a week later. The witch still hasn't woken up, though Ron has pronounced her baby to be fine. They continue with their daily life on the run until the witch wakes up, saying that her name is Hermione Jean Granger.

Now, on with Chapter 4:

* * *

**"Lost but now I am found/**

**I can see but once I was blind."**

**Lana Del Rey, Born To Die**

* * *

"Hermione, Hermione! Wake up!" Someone was shaking her. "Wake up."

Cracking one eye open, Hermione perceived, through blurry vision, a tall, redheaded boy. "Ron?" she murmured. Her eyes fluttered open, and she realized, with disappointment flooding her veins, that the boy was not Ronald Weasley. But he clearly was a Weasley.

He had the trademark Weasley hair color, though his was more of an auburn. His eyes were definitely the shade of Ginny and Mrs. Weasley's bold brown. Looking more closely at his face, Hermione also registered that the boy had Mr. Weasley's nose.

"Hermione," the unnamed Weasley called once more.

Irritated, Hermione pounced up and jabbed her wand into the boy's sternum "Who are you?!" she growled. "Why do you look so much like Ron and Ginny?"

"Woah, woah. Calm down, 'Mione." The boy backed away, looking a bit alarmed.

"Don't call me 'Mione!" Hermione snarled, her wand leaving the boy's sternum to aim at his throat.

"But...I've always called you 'Mione." The boy trailed off. Seeing Hermione's deadly gaze, he spoke up again. "My name is Stephen Weasley, and I've never heard off a Ron or Ginny!"

Hermione's situation dawned on her. "Crap," she muttered, burying her face in her hands.

"Hermione?" the boy, Stephen Weasley, asked. He knelt next to Hermione. "Are you okay?"

Hermione fisted her cloak's fabric in her hands before grabbing her wand. "I'm really sorry, but I need to do this! Petrificus Totalus!"

Stephen froze in his kneeling position and fell backwards with a loud thud.

"Stupid idiot!" Hermione cursed herself. "I should have used Muffliato before I fell asleep. I hope I didn't wake anyone up." She turned to look around her and at Stephen's confused but frozen expression. Hermione felt like crying. She was really in 1944. It hadn't been a dream. "And I just met the future Dark Lord!" Hermione clutched her wild brown hair. "What do I do? I'll have to research some way to get back home. I can't stay here in the past. I'll mess up time. I might make it so I will never be born!" She turned around, and an idea struck. "I could go to Dumbledore! But no! If he gets involved, it could distract him. He's supposed to defeat Grindlewald next year. I'll just have to pretend to be Hermione Dagworth-Granger for now. I hope Harry and Ron can survive with out me while I try and get back."

She pointed her wand at Stephen's body. "Obliviate!" Wiping all his memories of the last five minutes, she positioned him next to her armchair, still on the ground. She settled in the armchair herself. Hermione flourished her wand over Stephen's body one final time. "Confundo! Ennervate!"

He awoke with a gasp. "What the...?" Stephen spotted Hermione on the chair above him. "Hermione! What happened?" he voiced.

Hermione pretended to blink sleep out of her eyes. "I dunno. I just woke up when I heard a loud thud. I suppose you tripped and woke me up."

"Oh, right. I was coming to wake you up. Though I do not remember tripping." Stephen frowned. That was when Hermione's Confundus Charm took over. "I suppose I tripped." He shook his head, the confusion growing. "Anyway, why are you sleeping here? It is almost 3 o'clock. Go to bed. The girls can help you with your missing trunk situation tomorrow morning."

_Missing trunk?_ Hermione frowned. Out loud, she agreed with Stephen. "Alright, I will go to bed. I shall meet you tomorrow." Her mouth stumbled over the unfamiliar, formal words.

* * *

Hermione stumbled into the Gryffindor dorm. "Lumos," she whispered to her wand. Immediately, a bright light flooded the room, coming from her wand.

_Too bright,_ Hermione thought. "Dim." She whispered to her wand. Instantly, her wandlight dimmed to mimic a candle. "That's better." She turned in a circle, casting shadowy light over the walls of the room.

Out of the five four-poster beds in the room, four were occupied, their hanging drawn to hide the occupants. The empty bed, placed between a large wooden desk and a window, beckoned invitingly.

Everywhere she turned, the gold and red flashed mockingly at her, reminding Hermione that even though she was in a familiar settings, she was still very far from home.

Lying on the bed, Hermione felt more relaxed than she had in weeks. Being on the run with Harry and Ron had been quite harsh on her regular sleeping routine. Her mind strayed as she began to remember times when she'd been as relaxed as she was now. Eventually, Hermione drifted off into a blissful but brief oblivion.

* * *

Glaring brightness penetrated her eyelids, resulting in a red, shadowy atmosphere, until Hermione realized that she was staring at the inside of her eyelids. "Go away." She ordered, turning on her side and covering her face with her arms.

A loud, girlish cry, however, shattered her peace. "Hermione!" the squeal echoed through the room.

Hermione groaned, "Look." She stated, annoyed at her disrupted sleep. "I do not know who you are, but if you don't leave me alone in the next few seconds, I will curse you until you resemble a troll."

Another voice laughed. "Yeah, right. That threat stopped working the first ten times you tried it on us, Daggie."

Finally, Hermione could not take it any more. She sprung up, getting a first glance at her opponents, and her heart stopped.

Four beautiful and feminine faces looked down at her. But it was the fact that how closely the girls resembled Hermione's classmates that shocked her.

One girl, with curly blond hair that touched her waist, was the clone of Lavender (or rather Lavender was the clone of the girl, since Hermione was in the past, long before Lavender would be born.) They had the same hair, delicate noses, and sky-blue eyes.

Tall and slender, with features that paralleled Ginny's, the second girl was clearly an ancestor of the Weasleys and somehow related to Stephen. Her hair was the same fire-red as Ginny, and her eyes were bold blue like Ron's.

A petite girl with auburn hair and grey eyes vaguely resembled Hermione's dorm-mate, Fay Dunbar. The last girl, with long ebony hair, seemed unfamiliar. Hermione didn't recall knowing anyone who looked like her.

"Hermione?" the Weasley girl asked. "Are you unwell?"

"I'm fine." Hermione got out.

"You are talking quite strange." Lavender's clone said. "I suppose it comes from spending a summer with the Muggles. Along with those strange Muggle clothes."

Hermione looked down. Before she had lay in the bed, she'd taken off the cloak she'd been wearing. Now, her sweater and jeans seemed a signal of danger, put of place among the other girls' long sleeping shirts and skirts. "Oh, yes. I picked up the Muggles' strange talking habits. Their clothes are exceptionally strange. I cannot wait to take them off." She explained shakily.

"Dumbledore asked us to loan you some clothes for today. He is working to find your trunk. I guess having the Transfiguration teacher as your godfather really comes in handy at times like these." The unfamiliar girl laughed.

"Yes," Hermione faked a laugh. "I guess it does."

The Weasley girl spoke up, "Anyways, if we are going to loan you clothes, we may as well doll you up."

Fay Dunbar's ancestor thrust out a hand, shoving a potion vial into Hermione's open palms. "Here, rub this in your hair."

"Now, go take a bath." Lavender's clone shoved her towards the washroom.

* * *

Newly bathed and completely clean for the first time in weeks, Hermione sat on the three-legged stool feeling for some reason as she had when she was about to be Sorted. She leaned back and stretched her damp hair out to allow it to dry faster. Right now, it was completely straight and stretched to its actual length. Eventually, her hair would dry and frizz and shorten until it became the usual mop that Hermione always had.

"Hermione," the Weasley girl called.

Hermione turned around to face the four girls as they approached. "Yes?" she asked.

"Just sit still as I fix your hair."

* * *

While the four girls worked on Hermione, pulling out random magical beauty appliances, they gossiped.

Most of their chatter Hermione tuned out but she leaned in for random important chunks of information that they let slip about themselves. From their jabbering, Hermione learned that Lavender's great-grandmother, or whatever she was to Lavender, was named Peony Brown and was the best friend of the unfamiliar girl.

She and Hermione's great-grandaunt, like most Pureblood Gryffindors, had met occasionally in the summers before Hermione (Dagworth-Granger)'s parents died. Then Hermione had moved from her family Manor to an apartment in Muggle London last summer. Peony was a sweet and extremely stylish girl who was extremely worried for Hermione because of her (actually Hermione's great-grandaunt) drifting apart from her friends.

The Weasley girl was named Hazel and was Hermione's first best friend. Her twin brother, Stephen, was Hermione's other best friend. Hazel was like Ginny in every way, smart, short-tempered, and independent. She could sometimes be oblivious to others' suffering because she hadn't gone through what Ginny had.

Stephen was similar to Ron, loyal and awkward sometimes, but while Ron was mostly uncaring for his grades, Stephen liked to academically challenge himself. Stephen and Hazel had a younger brother in Third year named Julian.

Fay Dunbar's ancestor, Octavia Dunbar, nicknamed Tav, was secretive and cunning. She stubbornly called Hermione 'Daggie' since First year where Hermione (Dagworth-Granger) had made the mistake of calling Tav by her real name. Angrily, Tav had retorted by calling Hermione 'Daggie' and though now they were friends, refused to let go of the habit.

The last girl was definitely unknown to Hermione. Her name was Bianca Chase, also Pureblooded. Hermione vaguely remembered her family dying out in the '60s. Bianca appeared selfish and quite dumb to outsiders but had a way with her wand that prevented them from saying otherwise. In reality, she was just an insecure girl who had a rather large heart.

* * *

"Done," Hazel announced. "Here," she shoved pieces of clothing at Hermione. "Go put this on."

Hermione ducked behind an Oriental, three-part divider and sorted through the clothing that Hazel had given her. All were pieces of an old-fashioned Hogwarts uniform. Hermione noted that there was a blazer, which she was never required to wear in the future.

After dressing, Hermione stood back in front of the mirror, analyzing herself as the other four girls made a few adjustments to her uniform. The Gryffindor girls had done nothing much to Hermione, claiming that they needed to let her natural beauty shine. 'Natural beauty,' Hermione scoffed. 'As if my broomstick hair and large forehead are beautiful.'

The girls had forced Hermione's bushy hair to lie flat and sleek and untangled the unruly curls, which they had then teased into a French braid. Bianca had highlighted Hermione's small eyes with mascara, making them appear bigger, and finished with simple lipgloss.

"You look amazing!" Peony cried in a sing-songy tone.

"Daggie does not look too bad," Bianca smirked.

"Why do you not put make-up on more often?" Tav asked. "You look so much better when you don't leave your hair hanging around your face like a curtain."

"Now, you will not be able to keep Elijah away." Hazel teased.

"Elijah. Elijah who?" Hermione questioned, confused.

"Elijah McLaggen, of course. You know, the boy who has tried to ask you to the Yule Ball three consecutive years, only for you to decline each time." Tav answered.

"Oh yeah, right. How could I forget him? He is such a bother. Can he never take a no for an answer?" Hermione growled. _Great, even in the past, a McLaggen is after one of my_ _ancestors._ She groaned. But it's just like a McLaggen to keep pestering. _Why was Cormac interested in me in the first place? It was probably because I was the Boy-Who-Lived's best friend._

"Maybe Riddle will finally notice you." Peony sighed.

'What?!' Hermione's jaw dropped open. She tried to find words to express her disbelief but, thankfully, Bianca beat her to it.

"That git! Never. Daggie is too good for him. Has Snake-face ever done anything but sneer in her face? Besides, he is always hanging around those Slytherin whores."

'Snake-face.' Hermione snorted. 'Bianca doesn't know how accurate she is.'

"They are not all whores." Peony said. "Imogen Valentine is very kind."

"Yeah, but what about Walburga and Lucretia Black? Down-right devils they are. I do not know how they score any of the Slytherin boys." Tav spit out the two names like poison.

"Why are the Slytherin boys the most handome? Riddle has those eyes, the ones you could get lost in." Peony complained. "And Malfoy and his hair..."

"Come on, Peony. We are going to breakfast so you do not faint because you were dreaming of Nott's pointy chin." Bianca stood up.

"And so we do not puke of disgust." Hazel and Tav giggled.

"Come, Hermione. Let us got to the Great Hall." Hazel grabbed Hermione's arm and dragged her along. "We can loan you parchment and quills to take notes with for today while Dumbledore finds your trunk."

* * *

Hermione bit into her toast, across which marmalade was spread generously. She took a sip of her cool pumpkin juice and sighed in pleasure. Hermione wasn't very subtle with eating her fill, after starving for three months, she felt that she deserved it.

"Hey, 'Mione." Tav leaned across the Gryffindor house table. "Dumbledore wants to see you before classes starts. I think he found your trunk."

"Okay." Hermione swung her legs over the bench. Unconsciously, she looked around the Hall for a familiar Snake before realizing that he wasn't there.

She was half-way to the Headmaster's office before realizing that Dumbledore wasn't the Headmaster at this time. She turned around and headed the other way, where she knew McGonagall's office was, hoping that Dumbledore had the same office.

Hermione was mindlessly walking when she bumped into a hard, muscular chest.

"Careful Granger," a familiar drawl broke through Hermione's much craved silence.

Hermione looked up into white-blond hair and a pointy face. 'This must be Abraxas, Draco's grandfather. I can see the resemblance,' she sneered. "Malfoy," Hermione said in the same way she spoke to Draco. "Move."

"No," Abraxas said simply. "I shall not move. You were in my way, Mudblood-lover, so you must move."

"I will not move. You will." Hermione's eyes bore into Abraxas' grey orbs. They stood there in a silent stand-off for several seconds, each waiting for the other to move.

"Abraxas, listen to Ms. Granger and move before I deduct ten points from Slytherin for being inflexible." A familiar baritone rang behind Hermione.

Hermione turned around to see the infamous baby Voldemort. "Oh, it's you. I was just wondering who could be my knight in shining armor." She mocked as Malfoy grumpily moved aside before remembering who she was addressing. In a frenzy, she quickly schooled her features, ready to stammer out a quick excuse to flee before Riddle could Crucio her or something.

To her surprise, Tom Riddle, instead of reaching for his wand, laughed. "As if _you_ would need a savior."

Hermione was confused. If she knew anything about Lord Voldemort, it was that he didn't take kindly to those who made retorts at him. Then it dawned on her. Riddle was under the watch of Albus Dumbledore. The future Dark Lord could not drop his facade in public, what would happen to all those who doted on the angelic Tom Riddle? They'd start questioning his every action.

"Tom," Malfoy interrupted nervously. "I must get going. I have to collect my class schedule from Slughorn."

As soon as Abraxas' silver head was out of sight, Riddle turned his piercing gaze back to her. "So, where are you heading, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione shivered under the intensity of his questioning gaze. "Uh..um...Dumbledore's office. Yeah, I'm heading to Dumbledore's office." Her voice quavered before growing more confident.

"Oh, of course. Is it a personal visit?" Riddle questioned.

"It would be highly inappropriate for a gentleman to ask a lady's business..." Hermione quoted the phrase her late grandmother had always said whenever Hermione's father asked where his mother was heading to on a Saturday night. "But, if you must know, my trunk went missing last night, and I believe that Dumbledore has found it."

From the look on Riddle's face, Hermione could tell that he didn't believe her. _Too bad! I'm telling the truth._ "Now, can I go?"

"Of course."

But before Hermione could quickly stalk off, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to face him again.

"What?" Hermione spat, squirming in discomfort.

Riddle smirked at discomfort. As if to alarm her more, he tenderly placed his fingertips underneath her chin and pushed her head up until their gazes aligned. "I would not go wandering out at night anymore.." he began in a soft tone. He leaned in to whisper the last part in Hermione's ear. "One night or another may be your last if you accidentally wander off in the wrong direction."

A fluttery feeling began in Hermione's chest. Whether it was because of Riddle's proximity or his threat, she didn't know, but she hoped it for the latter. Hermione gulped and muttered dazedly. "Of course. That would be horrid." She clenched her fists, ready to spit out a retort but before she could speak, Riddle had disappeared.

Hermione tried to relax, but she could not help the hair on her neck standing up or keep herself from casting a wary glance around her. She attempted not to think back to Riddle's threat as she made her way to Dumbledore's office, but she couldn't stop herself from worrying. Because, if there was one thing she'd learned about Voldemort from Harry, it was that he always fulfilled his threats.

* * *

That took several days to type. I had to go rather slowly. Anyways, I'm really, really sorry for the delay. Please comment if you have any suggestions or questions. If you wish to be my Beta and help me out a lot, then please PM me. It will help me get out chapters faster.

Thank you for reading and remember, please review.


	6. Chapter 6: Yellow Flicker Beat

Hello! So I know I promised Chapter 6, so I won't blabber on and on. Instead, here it is.

* * *

**"This is the start of how it all ever ends/**

**They used to shout my name, now they whisper it/**

**I'm speeding up and this is the red, orange, yellow flicker beat sparking up my heart."**

**Lorde, Yellow Flicker Beat**

* * *

Hermione stared at Harry and Ron, who stood there, ready to ask her another question. They seemed so familiar that her heart ached. Being here in the tent with them, it almost seemed like _before. _Except it wasn't.

Harry and Ron did not remember her. And, Hermione herself had changed, drastically. If the old Hermione saw her, she'd not recognize herself. The old Hermione had been so sweet, kind, innocent, naive.

Her heart clenched. It had been technically only been a few months since the locket had stolen her from her old life, if Hermione had judged the time correctly. Now, she'd returned, almost completely different, with the locket.

Harry coughed and ran a hand through his messy hair. It was such a Harry-like gesture that Hermione froze, snapped out of her thoughts by the familiarity. A look gleamed in his eyes, Harry's I-have-something-stupid-to-say look.

"Who sent you?!" he spat. "Who was so stupid to believe that we would fall for the innocent-and-wounded act?! Voldemort?!" Harry lifted his wand and pointed it in an accusatory manner towards Hermione. Behind him, Ron looked quite uncertain.

Hermione's heart plummeted in her chest. The coldness in Harry's voice made her eyes ache with unshed tears. Harry had never spoken to her like that ever. _Stop being emotional! _ the sane part of her mind snapped. _Harry doesn't remember you._

"I am not a Death Eater!" Her maternal instinct took over, and Herrmione's hands automatically reached to cradled her unborn child. She did not draw her wand, not if she even had it on her. Knowing Harry, he'd probably took it and hidden it somewhere.

"Then who sent you?!" exclaimed Harry.

"Just tell us." Ron said in a gentler tone. Hermione noted that he was more patient than her old Ron.

"Dumbledore did." Hermione answered. "Albus Dumbledore sent me to help you."

"Dumbledore's dead!" Harry cried. "He can't have sent you to help us."

"Besides," Ron stated. "If Dumbledore had sent you, why would you be wearing the Slytherin locket?"

"Just wait, I'll tell both of my story in due time. First, may I eat? I haven't had food in fifty-one years."

* * *

Ron observed the girl, Hermione-he corrected himself, as she ate. At first, when she had said fifty-one years, then Ron had thought she was joking. But, now, examining her clothing and speaking manner, Ron believed that her statement was possibly true.

When she was done eating, Hermione pushed the bowl and spoon away from her on the kitchen surface. She opened her mouth to speak. Ron braced himself for some startling remark about the food. But, surprisingly, she began her tale.

"As I told you, my name is Hermione Granger. I was born on September 19, 1979 to Muggles Robert and Sarah Granger. Yes, I am Muggle-born." She said in response to Harry's questioning glance.

"I attended Hogwarts from 1991 to 1997. I was supposed to graduate in June of 1998 or this coming June-"

Hermione was interrupted by Ron's cry. "That's impossible! You claim to have gone to Hogwarts with me and Harry!"

"I did." Hermione said quietly.

"You're lying! I don't remember you!" Harry scoffed.

"I was a Gryffindor alongside you two. I better show you since you won't believe me." She Summoned a beaded handbag and retrieved a Pensieve from it.

Ron's jaw dropped in disbelief. "That's...that's..."

"The magic of an Undetectable Extension Charm? Yes." Hermione placed her wand to her brown hair and withdrew a string of silver memories. She dropped them into the Pensieve and stated, "Look."

Ron and Harry leaned over the Pensieve and soon found themselves tumbling down into it.

* * *

"Granger, Hermione!" Professor McGonagall called through the Great Hall.

A small girl with bushy brown hair and intelligent eyes walked from the crowd of First years and strode through the long aisle between the House tables. Behind her could be seen a small, black-haired boy next to a boy with fiery hair. The girl's gait was long and confident, though her eyes shone with nervousness.

The girl reached the stool and lifted the Sorting Hat, placing it on her head. Her eyes grew unfocused as she listened to the Sorting Hat's decision. After a long time, the Hat yelled out "Gryffindor!", and the scarlet and gold table burst into cheers. Brimming with excitement, the girl ran to join them.

* * *

It was Charms class, and Hermione was seated next to a redheaded boy, the same one from the Sorting ceremony. She was lecturing him in a bossy voice, and the boy was trying to tune her out. With a flourish, Hermione pulled out her wand, swished and flicked it while chanting "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The feather placed in front of her rose a few inches and levitated for a full minute before settling back down.

* * *

After the first day in Charms class, Hermione ignored everyone, especially harry Potter and Ron Weasley. She cared nothing for their complaints about her, only for her books.

* * *

On the second day of Second year, a still-friendless Hermione stalked through a corridor, struggling under the weight of several books. She stared down the corridor where Draco Malfoy and his gang were terrorizing a First year.

Hermione pulled her wand out, Jinxed all six of them with different jinxes, and retreated into the shadows before anyone could see her.

* * *

Having figured out the monster of the Chamber of the Secrets, Hermione crept around the hallway with a mirror. She met with a Ravenclaw prefect and warned her. "The monster is a Basilisk," she said. "Its eyes can Petrify you. Don't look straight at it!"

Together, they crept around the corridors carefully, glancing around with the mirror first. At one hallway, the mirror reflected large, yellow eyes. Suddenly, The world crept into darkness.

* * *

In Fourth year, Hermione attended the Yule Ball by herself. She was offered a dance by Viktor Krum but she refused.

* * *

In Fifth year, Hermione took her OWLs and passed with all Os. She was one of the minor members of Dumbledore's Army.

* * *

In the middle of Sixth year, she was summoned to Professor Dumbledore's office.

"Professor!" Hermione cried at the sight of Dumbledore's hand. "What happened?"

"That is currently none of your concern. Ms. Granger, you are one of the brightest young witches I have ever known. You know what a Horcrux is, I believe?" he answered.

"Yes, but what does that have to do with me?" she questioned.

"I am dying." Dumbledore outright stated.

Hermione gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

"There is no way to avoid my death. But for you, I have an important mission if you choose to partake in it. It involves risks greater than anything you have seen and if you choose to do it, you will no longer exist. At least, not in the way you currently do. " Dumbledore said.

"I will do it. What must I do?" Hermione asked.

"You must understand what I am asking of you. If you agree to do this, you will have never been born. If you succeed, however, you could help save millions of people."

"I understand."

Dumbledore sighed. "You must go back in time to 1946 and steal the Slytherin locket from Tom Riddle. And then, you must come back to 1998 and bring the locket to Harry Potter. He will be able to help you."

"How will I complete this?" questioned Hermione.

"On the day of my death, a letter will appear in your trunk with the instructions for going and returning through time. Memorize them, because your life, and the future's fate depends on your return. Burn the letter and complete the instructions the day after I die."

* * *

Hermione ran into her dormitory, tears dripping done her face. She flung open her trunk's lid and rifled through it. Upon finding a creamy parchment envelope with Dumbledore's signature, her face grew grim.

* * *

Hermione stood in a circle of unlit candles in a dark room. Pointing her wand at the roof above her, she flourished it in a circle, muttering incantations under her breath. The candles flickered with flames, the flames growing in size rapidly.

A beam of pure white energy emerged from the tip of her wand. It shot into a large ball that exploded into blinding white light...

* * *

Harry and Ron remerged from the Pensieve, their faces in similar expressions of surprise.

"I believe that that is enough for now. I shall show you the rest some other time." The real Hermione stated. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes."

"Who's the father?" Ron asked.

Hermione faltered. "What?!"

"Who's the father of your child?" Ron asked again.

"Some one from the past. He's long dead now."

"Okay," Harry said. "We will discuss what we saw and let you rest for now."

* * *

Left alone on the bunk-bed, Hermione rubbed her hand over in stomach in circular patterns._ Oh, baby, _she thought. _If they knew who your father was, even your uncles from your mother's past life would not accept you. It's not your fault that your father is..._

* * *

Grindelwald! No, just kidding. We all know that it's Tom. Thanks for reading and please review.


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